a moth at the mass all
broken and fluttering
finds its way home –
alleluia against stone
dedicated to its unmoved
mover. the moth
all dead remains
with the cathedral which
keeps it forever and a
day until a grey-haired
man with a backpack
vacuumcleaner sucks it
away when the parish
moves pews. he dumps
the grit out onto a pile of
rocks and the moss grows
over it. young lovers
pose there for their weddings
